Touch

Sometimes the barricades are for good reason. Opening up another way for your path. Boulders often is seen as mercy in the rear view mirror. It feels like all is lost. Including yourself. Alas! It's true. It's the way. A measure of make believe, tossed with naive notions willing to be innocent. Broadsided. Undone. Empty. Not for long. Out of sync with how things used to be. Out of sync with the brutal reality. Not noticing the gentle touch. The secret place in your heart opens many moons later. Revealing the soul of the living. A healing hand in the darkness. More alive than childhood dreams. Light hand on my shoulder. Whispers in the night. Cosmic chain. No weak links. Strength in weakness. Pain embracing love. Who is embracing me? Rhythms. Here comes the sun. Rain. Night. Dawn. Even in the good times bracing for the worst. Call it control. Call it survival. Just don't call it living.

Look at the lilies. Look at the bolder in the path. Look at the warrior. Look at the caged lion. Feel the gentle touch.

Of the wind.